


Woof

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Prompts [42]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Fluff, Interspecies Friendships, Other, Rats, good dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr Prompt:How about something kind of domestic and sweet? How about papa II, III, and Copia with a s/o who loves dogs & owns a few that follow them around due to having a close attachment & is protective of their owner to the point where they all sleep on the bed with the s/o as well. How would the Papas react to the close attachment & would they mind sharing the bed with their s/o's dogs?
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus II/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Papa Emeritus/Reader
Series: Ghost Prompts [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20





	Woof

**Author's Note:**

> You're also getting **Papa I** bc I had a HC for him too.

**Papa I** : Has an old sheepdog that you think might just be as old as he is. In fact, for a good amount of time, you’d wondered if she was alive at all—the only time you ever saw her was asleep: at his feet as he rocked in his rocking chair; in the sun next to him as he worked in his garden; under his chair at the dinner table; and at the end of his bed at night.

It wasn’t until you brought one of your dogs over that the old girl had finally perked up. Your dog had growled lowly at Papa I, and you’d been about to chastise him, when Papa’s dog had risen—body tense—and growled even louder. You’d been so surprised, you’d forgotten to say anything to your buddy, but Papa I had patted his dog’s side and said, “It’s OK, Sadie. Go back to sleep, my good girl.” Sadie had huffed, then flopped passive-aggressively down on the floor, her body lax but her eyes open and wary. Belatedly, you’d finally bent to soothe your own dog apologizing to Papa. He’d just waved it off. “Just two good dogs doing their jobs.”

It was clear that your dogs needed to pass the Sadie test if you were going to be able to try to pass the Papa test. Luckily, Sadie already liked you, so it only takes a little further coaxing from both sides to get her to accept them and them to accept her.

A rowdy duo together, they take to gently protecting Sadie as if their lives depended on it. Sadie accepts their fealty as her due. Papa I just nods as if this was the only expected outcome. As an added bonus, they seem too concerned with outside threats to think much of you and Papa disappearing together for some fun.

* * *

**Papa II** : Has a pair of pitties himself. He says it’s because they’re mean motherfuckers, but you’ve never seen Balthazar and JLo do anything meaner than cronch their dog bones. Most of the time they’re snoozing in a square of sun or playing tug of war with the Ghoul kits. When around Papa II, they sit contentedly at his feet while he rubs their heads as he reads through paperwork. He indulges them with his fine steak—a habit you had to put your foot down on with your own dogs.

Initially, you’d kept your dogs separate, but—as your relationship grew—it became imperative that the loves of your lives get along with each other. Your worry was all for naught, as the four of them got along famously at the first. Now the six of you go to parks whenever the weather allows—you and Papa have an idyllic picnic while your own dogs and his pitbulls chase each other and do dog things before coming back to nap in a pile by your enormous blanket.

The only hiccup was when a night over in your quarters had turned into an impromptu play session the next morning, and one of your dogs had lept in to protect you. You’d been terrified of what Papa II would do to your dog, but—after you’d calmed your buddy down and separated him into the bathroom—he’s just chuckled. “Ah,  _ amore _ . How could I be mad when I would do the same? But next time we play, we should stick to my playroom, hmm?”

Now, outside of masses and official duties, the 6 of you are a certified pack; the rest of the congregation would be hard pressed to see you and Papa without your dogs either padding along beside you, running around to play with each other, or trying to solicit pets from another willing Sibling. Forget separating them when the two of you share a bed—you’ve tried it, and it only ended in mournful  _ awoos _ from either set of dogs, so now sleepovers have to occur in Papa II’s bed so the whole pile can fit. Papa II grumbles about his “sanctum,” but you’ve seen him slip your babies a new set of squeaky toys.

* * *

**Papa III** : Says he loves dogs, but the second one of yours jumps up on him, he squeals and backs away. He plays it off like he was just concerned about stains on his suit, but you know better (even if you pretend to accept his explanation). At first he’s utterly confounded by your dogs’ behavior. The first time a snout makes its way into his crotch he just freezes with an “Um”, and you have to show him how to gently push inquiring noses away from delicate bits. When a promising make-out session gets interrupted by inquisitive paws, he pouts.

“Aww, Papa—they’re just jealous.” He mumbles something about his own jealousy, but you let it go with a laugh. You try to put them into your bathroom when he’s over—but there’s so much whining, you have to let them out. Then there’s an entirely different kind of whining, and you have to make it clear to Papa III that you’re a package deal (even if you think your dogs are perfectly aware of what they’re doing).

You think it might actually become an issue, but one day Papa accompanies you to a dog park, and one of your dogs runs right up to him and drops the tennis ball at his feet. Papa looks at you helplessly, and you tell him, “Well, throw it!” It’s an instant bonding experience, and your heart swells while you watch your two favorite boys play with each other. Papa III immediately becomes their enthusiastic stepdad, buying them all manner of treats you have to veto and toys you wholeheartedly endorse.

When you first started seeing each other, you had to practically bribe your Pope to bring your dogs along—now you sometimes come home to empty quarters because he’s taken them out to play frisbee. You almost miss the days when you had to force the issue, since now it’s Papa who’s pleading for “Just five more minutes!” with your babies.

Almost.

* * *

**Copia** : He would be the one you’d  _ expect _ to be all squeamish, but he actually has a way with talking to animals, and your dogs are in love. You think sometimes that they might like him more than you! Whenever he comes over, they perk up and run right toward him, and he squats so he can ruffle their heads and give them little treats. When you come back from a night in his bed, your dogs run around excitedly sniffing at you and then running to the door—obviously waiting expectantly for Copia to enter. One time you came home to him lying on the floor, growling and barking along with them, and you just closed the door and came back later.

When he’d suggested introducing them to his ratties, you’d been beyond apprehensive—you didn’t want any mishap that would end in either of your dogs being put down—but Copia had just tutted at you. “It shall be OK, _ dolce _ . They are good babies.” At first your dogs had been confused by these tiny creatures that should be prey and yet weren't; but after some soft words from Copia, they were happily lazing, tongues lolling, while the pet rats crawled over their coats before snuggling in between warm paws. Copia had raised his eyebrow at you as if to say, “See?”

Since they did so well with his babies, he suggests you take the dogs down to the nursery so the children and kits can play with them too. You knew your dogs were gentle, but your heart just can’t take it when you see how tolerant and patient they are while they’re terrorized by the kids. Copia just kisses your head. “See? They love it.” You’re not quite sure if he means the kids or the dogs, but you agree.

Nowadays it’s a given that if you’re with Copia, your dogs are along for the ride, too. You try to keep the ratties just to his quarters, but occasionally you’ll find a stowaway. You blame Copia for having too many rats of which to effectively keep track. The only problem is when the two of you want to be intimate, and the dogs—who have been relegated to another room—howl and moan as if they’re being excluded from the best playdate ever. Sometimes a stern word from Copia will quiet them, other times he calls up one of his band Ghouls to take them to howl at the moon together.


End file.
